


Faith

by galaxystiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Breaking Up & Making Up, Church Sex, Demon Dean, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Priest Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:45:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4729847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxystiel/pseuds/galaxystiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been almost over two years since Dean disappeared, leaving Castiel brokenhearted. When he walks into Castiel's church, will both of them find the closure they need?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith

Castiel slipped on his collar, his eyes closed as he mentally prepared himself. He needed to go out to take the days service, as was his duty. For over a month now, he’d been fully ordained, the way he’d always wanted to be. Ever since he was a child, his faith had been so unwavering, there had never been any other destination for him than this. Even when he’d discovered his preference for men, his first thought had been terror. Terror that this great sin meant he couldn’t become a man of God. There was nothing else he’d ever wanted to do.

His hometown had been suffocating, but there had been one good aspect. The pastor had been a kindly old man who had assured Castiel that things were far more modern and accepting now. The introduction of the new marriage laws had changed everything. He’d encouraged Castiel to broaden his experiences, to travel a little and find his place in the world.  He would need to find God’s place within him before settling down.

It was advice that Castiel had taken to heart and was exactly what he’d done. He’d gone to college, travelled a little around Europe and discovered himself. Castiel had just settled back at home again when he’d met Dean Winchester.

The chemistry between them was obvious, instant. Against his better judgment, Castiel had let his desires take control. They’d tumbled into bed, but he’d known without a doubt that Dean wouldn’t be there when he woke up. It was a pleasant surprise, therefore, to find Dean awake and gazing at him hungrily the next morning. Castiel wasn’t sure what it was that drew him to Dean, but he knew that he was mysterious and a little dangerous. Even suspecting he wasn’t entirely safe, Castiel was helpless to turn him away.

They ended up moving in together after only two months, and everything was perfect. His heart well and truly captured, Castiel loved Dean like he had never loved anyone else in his life. He allowed himself to be romanced and wooed by the man who had become his everything in the shortest time. After another month, Castiel had broached his plans of becoming a priest with Dean. He had been a little wary but generally supportive.

It had all changed after six months together. Castiel had approached the pastor once more and asked again to become a candidate. His request was granted, and he returned home to wait for Dean. Overjoyed with the news, Castiel couldn't wait to tell his lover. But as it turned out, Dean never came home from his shift at the autoshop. Castiel waited for hours, calling the store only to find out that Dean had left on time. Between leaving the store and the time he should have arrived home, he'd disappeared.

Castiel called the police, but no trace of Dean had ever been found. He’d simply vanished.

Not knowing what else to do, Castiel had thrown himself into his faith. He completed what should have been a four year seminary in just two years. His faith, his love for God defined him, but nothing took away the emptiness he felt at Dean’s loss. Most mornings he woke up questioning his path, his choices. The religion that had been his reason for living was second place to the heartbreak in his chest.

Now, he was here, exactly where he was supposed to be. Where he’d always wanted to be, but somehow Castiel felt like something was missing. Without any closure, he simply couldn’t let go of Dean.

Smoothing down his vestment, Castiel entered the church, taking his place at the pulpit. His eyes scanned the crowd with a pleasant smile, recognising most of the faces there as he began his sermon. Just as he was about to finish with a prayer, he glanced towards the doors. Freezing in shock, his eyes met far too familiar green ones. Dean was standing there, staring at him, and Castiel was frozen to the spot. He floundered, unable to remember the start of the prayer he spoke daily. He found himself unable to speak, because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his ex-lover.

Almost as if he could sense his difficulty, Dean stepped forward and took a seat at the back row. The gesture betrayed the fact that he wasn’t leaving any time soon. The movement brought Castiel back to his senses and he cleared his throat, ending with a prayer. He was forced to shake hands and talk with many of the regulars afterwards, as always. This was a part he usually enjoyed, but right now he was just desperate to go and talk to Dean. His body almost vibrated to get some of the answers that he longed for.

Eventually, they were the only two people left in the church. There was nothing else standing between them. Castiel straightened up, standing tall despite his shaking legs. He stayed in front of the altar, letting Dean come to him, watching him come down the aisle. Dean hesitated briefly before stepping on the marble cross engraved into the floor. He flinched, his face flickering as it morphed into the most hideous thing Castiel had ever seen.

Taking a step back, Castiel watched as Dean passed over the cross and his face became normal again, and he knew. In that moment, everything became clear. He knew why Dean had left, why he’d just suddenly vanished one day. What Castiel didn’t understand was everything else. With a little luck their conversation would bring answers.

Turning away, he muttered under his breath. Discreetly, he dropped his rosary beads into a pitcher by the altar. Castiel poured himself a glass of water, just to steady his hands.

“Father.”

The pitcher was set down a little heavily on the floor at the sound of his title on those lips. Lips that had once kissed, caressed, declared love to him. Made promises that had turned out to count for nothing.

“Hello, Dean,” he intoned, turning to meet the gaze of the man that had broken his heart. “You don’t know how many times I imagined you coming back here. Why now? Why today?”

The green eyed man stopped a few feet in front of him, close enough to touch, but neither of them made an effort to. Castiel wasn’t sure he even wanted to touch him. An abomination of God in his church, how was he even able to walk freely in here? Still, he needed to be sure that it wasn’t just a trick of the light, or a figment of his imagination. He needed proof.

“I never left,” Dean admitted gruffly. “I’ve always been close by. I... I wish I could explain to you why I couldn’t stay, but I can’t. All I wanted to say today was that... I’ve never lied to you. Loving you was the only thing that’s ever come naturally to me, the only  _good_ thing. Believe me when I say that hurting you was the last thing I wanted, and I’d give anything to see you smile again.”

Castiel closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. Those were the words he’d wished to hear for so long, but they meant little. How could he trust anything Dean had said, when he’d been gone for over two years?

His hands shook. “I wish I could believe that. If you can’t explain why you left... can you at least tell me why you never said goodbye?”

Dean was quiet for a moment, musing on the question. Castiel felt a bolt of irritation that Dean had to  _think_  about answering him. Without a doubt he felt like he deserved an explanation, but he said nothing. It wouldn’t do to provoke him. Once upon a time, he would have sworn before God that Dean would never hurt him, but now... he wasn’t so sure.

“It would have given too much away. I could have called, I don’t have an excuse for that. But if I spoke to you... I wouldn’t have left, and it was the right thing to do. Not for me, because I couldn’t even bring myself to leave town. But it was the right thing for you. I... I’m bad news, Cas.”

Castiel took a step back as Dean took a step forward and swallowed. “And you couldn’t let me decide that for myself? You couldn’t even... leave a message or anything? I thought you were  _dead_ , Dean. I had to think that because the alternative meant that you didn’t love me like I loved you... and that thought... almost made me lose my faith.”

Dean almost snarled and closed the gap between them in one stride. Castiel forced himself not to flinch as he was grabbed, his biceps squeezed in Dean’s iron grasp.

“Not you,” Dean growled. “Not you, Cas. If anything has to remain good and pure, it’s you. You can’t let go of your faith. It’s what makes you pure.”

A sob slipped from Castiel’s lips, and he freed himself from the touch. His fingers rubbed at his arms where the goosebumps from Dean’s touch still lingered. “You don’t get to make that call any more, Dean. You left me!”

“Because I couldn’t stay!” Dean bellowed, stepping back and turning his face away, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm down.

Castiel shivered and took a large gulp of water. His lips were slick from the liquid as he took a few shaky steps towards Dean. He wanted to ask, wanted to know so many things, but he was too scared to now. Yet he couldn’t leave, couldn’t bring himself to flee. If anything, he found himself drawing closer, until his hand found Dean’s shoulder. His compassion was ingrained in him, but it wasn’t just that. He loved Dean, he always had. Even now, his heart ached with longing that made his stomach churn.

In a quick movement, Dean turned and cupped Castiel’s cheek. Despite everything, Castiel closed his eyes and leaned into it. He didn’t expect the lips that covered his, nor did he expect the cry of pain or the inhuman snarl that followed. Opening his eyes, Castiel saw Dean clutching his mouth. Black smoke was coming from between his fingers, and his eyes were as black as coal. He needed no more proof. He knew what Dean was.

“You knew,” Dean hissed. “How? I did everything to make sure you didn’t know. And you stood there, drinking holy water in front of me. Left it on your lips like you knew I would kiss you.”

Castiel stared at Dean with a broken expression, his worst fears confirmed as he saw the state Dean was in. He focused on his blistered lips, red but healing at an unnatural speed. “I didn’t know until you walked over the cross and I saw your true face. The holy water was just for protection in case you attacked me. How long?”

“How long have I been a demon?” Dean hissed, blinking once. His eyes became the familiar indescribable green that Castiel had never been able to identify. Greener than the grassiest fields on a summers day.  “Long before you were born. This is why I left you, Cas. I thought you would never have to know, that I could stay with you and love you all throughout your life. I’ve done some terrible things, but you were the one good thing in my life I would never corrupt.”

“So what changed?” Castiel whispered, his hand resting on the altar, almost as if he was holding himself up. Maybe he was, he didn't trust his knees to hold his weight anymore.

Dean ducked his head, staring at a scuffmark on the floor. “The day I disappeared, it was the day you finally went to the church, wasn’t it? The second you became a candidate for the clergy, something changed. You were protected by God. I couldn’t get into  _our house_ , Cas! I put my key in the door but I couldn’t open it. There was something stopping me from going in. What could I say to explain that?”

Castiel felt his heart ache at how lost and pained Dean looked. Still, for the last two years his own pain had almost drowned him, so he found it hard to forgive him. Now, he understood Dean’s actions completely. Yet despite God’s teachings, understanding did not always breed forgiveness. Human nature was fickle, and everything wasn’t miraculously okay again.

“You could have told me the truth,” he whispered, his tone desolate. “I can’t promise I would have understood, because I don’t know how I would have reacted. But anything, anything at all would have been better than not knowing. I loved you, and you just ... left me.”

Dean nodded, still staring at the floor. “I know it feels like that to you, Cas, but I never left you. I’ve been around. I just wanted you to know that I still love you, and I always will. That I’m proud of you for getting to where you always wanted to be. I should have told you the truth, but I couldn't. What righteous soul of God would ever want to love a creature shaped by the Devil himself? I’m a sinner.”

He turned to leave, as if the conversation was over, casting Castiel a long look over his shoulder. It made the priest flounder. He found it difficult to believe that a demon that was way older than he appeared would come just to give him closure. To tell him  _he loved him_ . Still, there was a part of him that wasn’t surprised at all because Dean had always been like that. Putting everyone’s needs before his own. Castiel watched as Dean reached the cross and swallowed. Unable to stop him, he spoke the only words that would come to his lips.

“But I’m no saint.”

The words surprised both of them, but Castiel didn't waste time. He stumbled down the steps towards Dean, unable to let him leave, even if it meant he could watch him go this time. “I've learned so much about forgiveness and repentance, Dean. You can be redeemed, there’s some good in you. Even if it’s your love for me. A human priest with a faith so different than your own. You’ve never physically hurt me, and something now makes me think you never will. Despite your capabilities.”

Dean’s eyes met his again, and this time there was a genuinely amused smile tugging at his lips. “You gonna try and convert me, Cas?”

Castiel couldn’t help it. He laughed. The thought of converting a  _demon_  was hilarious, but he just shook his head. “Of course not. But maybe I can convince you that there’s more good in you than you think. Stay.” His voice turned meek at the request, and he looked up at Dean with a vulnerability that he couldn’t hide. “Don’t leave again.”

Dean closed the gap between them in a heartbeat, his hands coming up to frame Castiel’s face. Still, the touch was hesitant, almost as if he expected Castiel to recoil in disgust from his touch. Closing his eyes, Castiel leaned into it, covering Dean’s hands with his own. Turning his head, he pressed a chaste kiss to Dean’s palm. The demon inhaled sharply, tracing Castiel’s plump lower lip with his thumb.

“Anything you want, Cas. Tell me what you want, anything, and I’ll do it,” Dean breathed, hope colouring his tone.

Castiel didn’t need to open his eyes, didn’t need to look at Dean to know what he wanted. It would always be Dean.

“Kiss me,” he breathed, his lips parting just a fraction.

The anticipation was intense as Dean cradled his cheek in a gentle touch. “Of course,” he breathed, before their lips brushed together.

The years between them melted away at the kiss. There was nothing between them, no faith, no demons, betrayal or hurt. It was just Dean and Castiel at the very core of their beings, raw and loved and whole because they were together. Bringing his arms up to slide around Dean’s neck, Castiel tried to deepen the kiss. He wanted to make it mirror the explosions and passion in his heart, but Dean wouldn't let him. The demon pulled back, keeping it chaste and sweet.

“Anything I want?” Castiel whispered, opening his eyes and gazing into his ex-lover’s. His fingers had somehow curled around Dean’s dark red shirt, grasping it so tight that his knuckles were white.

Dean inclined his head in a solemn promise. “Anything, Cas.”

A broken sob slipped from Castiel’s lips and his fingernails dug into Dean’s skin. “ _Come home_ .”

The words broke the careful tension that had been building up between them since Dean’s arrival.  Suddenly a pair of warm lips were on his again, capturing him, devouring him. He was so consumed by Dean’s touch and scent that Castiel could do nothing but lose himself. Yet he knew in his heart that if he had the strength to break away, he wouldn’t do it. He would never hold himself back from Dean again.

He broke away long enough to tug the vestment off, tossing it onto one of the pews. His cardboard collar followed moments later. This wasn’t something meant for God, this was something private and intimate.

His hand found Dean’s belt buckle just as Dean’s hand found his, and their pants dropped in record time.

“You sure you want to do this here?” Dean muttered as he lowered them to the floor, kissing down Castiel’s neck and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

The pleasure was blinding, each kiss leaving his skin scorching. Castiel now thought he understood how Dean felt when he encountered holy water. It took a few seconds for the question to penetrate the lust-filled haze, but he didn’t care where they were. He needed something grounding to make him realise that this wasn’t a dream.

Clothing was the last barrier between them, and they soon changed that. At last it was just skin on skin, heat building. Despite the hurried passion between them, Dean’s touch was light, gentle, almost as if he thought Castiel was breakable. Nipping at his lower lip roughly, Castiel pressed his hard length to Dean’s. Moaning at the sensation, he slotted them together and rocked his hips forward.

“Don’t hold back,” he begged.

It seemed like Dean had just been waiting for the invitation. He grabbed a handful of Castiel’s ass firmly, using the leverage to crush their hips together. They both groaned from the pleasure, Castiel sprawled on top of Dean. It was sinful, the way they were rutting down so their lengths ground together with each movement.

It was frantic, messy, and when Castiel spat in his palm and used his hand to stroke both of them at the same time, Dean's eyes turned black. To his credit, Castiel didn’t flinch, just looked straight into the dark orbs and then kissed Dean again. He hadn’t changed, not in Castiel’s eyes. Dean was still the same man he’d fallen for at the start, but now there were no secrets between them.

He only pulled back when he sought more friction, stroking their shafts quickly. There was no time for smoothness; his speed was causing as much sensitivity as pleasure. It bordered on pain, but if the way Dean was writhing underneath him was anything to go by, then there were no complaints at either end.

“Cas,” Dean choked out, flipping them over in a smooth motion, pinning his lover to the floor and sucking greedy marks into his neck. He didn’t care for subtlety, never had. Castiel had always loved the possessive side of Dean, the side that sought to mark him and remind him who his mortal body belonged to.

That thought reminded him of where they were, what they were doing. Just a few feet from the marble cross on the floor, Castiel was indulging in sin. Still, he couldn’t find it in him to believe this was wrong. Despite everything, his heart felt whole again for the first time in over two years. There was nothing sinful about that.

The heat was coiling in his stomach now, and he gave a quiet grunt of warning that he was close. Clearly, Dean was nearing his orgasm too, as he covered Castiel’s hand with his own, taking over the speed. It gave the priest the final push he needed and he came with Dean’s name on his lips, painting his chest with white streaks of come.

Dean followed only a few seconds later, and Castiel watched him through lidded eyes, sated and satisfied as he slumped back onto the floor. He was covered in ropes of come that belonged to both of them, but found he didn’t care for anything then. He didn’t want to move, just closed his eyes and slowly came down from his high.

Castiel was vaguely aware of a hand stroking his hair, and soft whispers, but it took him a moment to get to a stage of awareness. The words were basically sweet nothings, Dean promising him the world.

“I don’t want anything except for you to stay,” he admitted softly, opening his eyes to look at Dean.

“I will,” Dean assured him, bringing Castiel to his chest and closing his eyes. “I promise.”

There was absolutely sincerity in his words, and Castiel didn’t doubt a single syllable of them. They’d been without each other for too long; now Dean had come back, Castiel was never going to let him go again.

He knew they would have to move soon, that they had to tidy up and clean up before the church reopened for confessional, but not right now. There would be a scandal if they were caught, outrage. He’d probably be defrocked, or whatever it was called these days. But Castiel didn’t care about any of that, prepared to let the chips fall where they may for even a single more second of this restful peace resonating through his body.

Dean had come back to him, and inside a church no less. A more suspicious man would have suspected there was some kind of divine intervention.

Castiel simply had faith.

**Author's Note:**

> [MY TUMBLR](http://blueeyedangel.co.vu)


End file.
